


While Dad's Away

by sophies_choice



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Consensual Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Sibling Incest, Underage Drinking, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 02:58:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1966395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophies_choice/pseuds/sophies_choice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John leaves Sam and Dean for a hunt. Sam should be doing his homework and Dean should be helping. Neither gets accomplished, especially since Sam is easily distracted by his brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	While Dad's Away

**Author's Note:**

> Been wanting to write a teen!sam fic for a while... don't know if this scratches the itch

Sam is supposed to be doing his homework, instead he watches Dean clean his guns across the room. It’s calculus and he really should be concentrating but as soon as his brother plowed through the door, mouth set in a straight line and eyes focused, homework was the last thing on his mind.

“Dean, help your brother with his homework,” John stomps in from the bathroom, working the last few buttons on his shirt. “I’m heading out, can’t help him myself.”

And Sam snorts, albeit quietly so his father doesn’t hear it because god knows his father would never help him even if he had the time. 

Dean looks up from his rifle. “Where are you going?” and drops the weapon, frown spread across his mouth. Sam watches them interact. Most of the time they act like he isn’t even in the room. At least when it comes to hunting. And that’s all bullshit because he’s 16 and just as good as Dean, ok, maybe not that good, but he’s still really good.

“Bobby said there’s a coven of witches just up north,” John answers and shoves weapons and clothes and other important stuff into his worn duffle bag. He doesn’t even bother to look at Sam. “I should be back in a couple days, week tops. Take care of the kid,” he makes a small insignificant motion towards Sam and it feels like a slap in the face.

 _The kid_. 

Dean on the other hand looks at him and he smiles reassuringly, like his existence _does_ matter to him. “Sure,” he winks at Sam and Sam feels his entire body flush. “You sure we can’t help you?” he asks then and Sam turns his eyes to his father who’s all packed and ready to leave them.

“No, Sam’s got finals and Bobby’s meeting me there anyway. We’ve got it covered.”

Sam can see Dean’s shoulders deflate just a little and it makes him feel just a bit guilty that he’s the reason Dean can’t go off on a hunt with his father. He knows Dean wants to desperately.

John reaches into his pocket and tosses a small wad of bills on the table. “That should be enough to last you, if not, there are a couple of cards in the nightstand. _Don’t_ use them unless you have to. Understand?”

They both nod. John looks at them one last time, like it may be the last time. Hunters never know if they’ll come home after a job. So he takes a few steps to Dean and gives him a rough hug, then moves to Sam and smashes their bodies together. “Watch your brother, make sure he doesn’t go off and leave you alone,” John mutters and slaps Sam’s back a few times before he pulls away.

“Yes, Sir,” Sam quirks a corner of his mouth and nods. He catches the strained eye roll of his brother.

John bids them farewell one last time and slams the door behind him. Sam can hear the loud roar of the truck and the squelch of dirt under the tires as his father drives off.

“Well, looks like it’s you and me for the next few days,” Dean picks up the rifle again. “Doing your homework? What you working on?” he asks, but Sam knows he really doesn’t care, he’s just asking because Dad asked him too.

“Calculus,” Sam answers and sighs, leaning back against his worn chair. “Wanna help?”

Dean glances in his direction and sets his gun down. “Sure,” he shrugs and Sam's face breaks out into a huge smile. Dean never wants to help him, so it feels awesome.

 

“Sammy, I don’t know what the fuck this means,” Dean resigns after ten minutes and Sam laughs tugging the textbook from his confused brother’s hands.

“It’s fine,” he assures and twirls his pencil around his fingers like a drummer. “You gotta be smart to understand this shit,” he grins slow and Dean smacks the back of his head as he stands up and heads for his bed.

“You callin me dumb?” Dean flops down and turns on the television, making sure its not too loud to distract Sam’s studies, but he’s already distracted, has been since Dean walked through the door.

Sam slides his homework into his text book and sets it aside. It’s Friday, he’s got the rest of the weekend to complete it.

"It's a good thing you’re pretty," Sam teases and makes his way to the other bed, sinking in with a sigh.

"Yeah, you're calling me dumb, alright, " Dean mutters with a sigh but he's smiling so he's not too offended. 

Sam watches his brother glance at the stack of bills on the tv stand and he already knows what he’s thinking.

“You hungry? I’m hungry,” Dean gets to his feet and plucks the money into his hands. “Burgers?”

Sam nods. “Sure, fine with me.”

And Dean nods. “I’ll be back,” he swipes the keys to the impala and heads out the door. “Get some homework done while I’m gone,” he instructs and Sam nods again just before he watches his brother leave him.

He doesn’t know how long Dean will be gone but as soon as the door closes he reaches over for the remote and starts flipping through the channels, there has to be something good on.

 

Dean takes an hour before he comes back, but he’s got food and a bag full of beer in his arms. Sam tears his eyes from the movie. “What took you so long?” he sits up on the bed, just in time to get a lap full of greasy fast food.

Dean makes his way to the small fridge and starts stocking it with beer.

“Got caught up,” Dean mutters and pulls two bottles out. Dad doesn’t let Sam drink, unless it’s after a hunt and he’s too exhausted to remember his youngest son shouldn’t be drinking, but Dean, Dean lets him drink whenever they’re alone. “Should’ve seen her, Sammy, legs for fucking days. Sweetest little mouth," he grins and Sam rolls his eyes.

“Glad to know where your priorities are,” Sam mutters and pulls out two burgers for himself and a large case of fries. He accepts the opened bottle his brother offers and takes a long drink, making sure not to look at Dean or else show him disappointment.

Dean grabs the rest of the food and spreads out on the other bed. “Sometimes you make me wonder,” Dean smirks from his bed and unwraps a burger. “One of these days I should take you with me. You’re growing up nice and big, Sammy,” Dean glances over and Sam catches a dark heated twinge around Dean’s eyes, but it’s only there for a second before he turns his eyes away.

Sam flushes under the soft glow of the night table lamp and takes a bite.

 

After several beers and greasy food in his stomach Sam is feeling good. Really good and he glances over at Dean who’s mouth is sealed tight around his beer. He watches him, the suck of his lips, the pull of his throat as he swallows down another drink. Sam shifts over the bed and tries to look away because it’s weird to watch Dean. He knows it’s weird, it’s his brother but sometimes, Sam sighs, sometimes he _can’t_ help it. The need is too strong. The pull is strung tight around his belly and all he wants to do is watch Dean, everything he does, sleep, eat, drive, _everything_. The way his fingers work his weapons, the way he dresses in the morning, the way he smiles when he sees a pretty girl walking down the street.

Sam knows it’s not normal, not the way he feels when he watches Dean because when he does, his blood pumps heavy and strong under his skin. The tender slide of Dean’s fingers on his gun is so obscene sometimes Sam can feel himself get hard and he knows it’s wrong.

He just can’t help it.

And sometimes. Sometimes Sam thinks Dean does the same. 

Watches him.

“Did you finish your homework?” Dean asks and Sam feels himself pull up from his own thoughts. He shakes his head and Dean comes into focus, he’s not looking in his direction but Dean is clearing talking to him.

Sam scrambles for a coherent response. “Yeah,” he finally says even if it’s a lie. He hasn’t touched his homework since Dean left. “I’m good,” he lies again and Dean glances over at him.

He’s making sure Sam isn’t lying but maybe the six beers have got to him enough because he nods in satisfaction and extends his hand. “Remote,” he says and Sam turns to him.

“No, I like this movie,” Sam clutches the remote and holds his position. “Come on, it’s Tom Cruise and Missions Impossible.” Sam knows he’s had too much to drink when he’s pulling for a short action hero who may or may not like the company of men. He doesn’t care, Sam actually likes the movies.

Dean, on the other hand, doesn’t take to it as he crawls over his bed and stumbles to Sam’s bed. “You fucking pansy, I told you, it’s either Swayze or Willis,” he falls ungracefully onto Sam’s bed, “Didn’t I teach you anything?” he slurs and Sam groans as his brother’s full weight slams into him.

Sam can feel his breath catch in his throat with the feeling of Dean’s body pressed so intimately against his. “Come on, man,” Sam shifts and wraps his arms around Dean’s arms shifting him off. Dean squirms and pushes off Sam’s shoulders. His eyes are drunk and heated and Sam swallows. “Hey, you’re drunk,” Sam mutters and Dean rolls away into the unoccupied part of Sam’s bed.

Sam watches Dean chest heave up and down with every breath, his eyes closed and drunk and Sam breathes through his nose. Dean look so vulnerable, tired and worn out and although Sam thinks it’s the worst time to touch him, there’s the deep dark part of him that guides his hand down onto Dean’s chest.

His fingers spread and feel the solid body of his brother. Sam isn’t even aware that he’s stroking Dean’s chest, up and down, up and down until he looks at Dean’s face and finds his eyes open and blown out to the edge. Green almost gone.

“Sammy,” Dean whispers and Sam jerks his hand away, but Dean is still looking at him.

Sam feels his breath caught in his throat in horror. “I’m sorr-fuck, I’m sorry, Dean,” he stutters but Dean doesn’t move away, the side of his body pressed tight against Sam’s, the bed just big enough to hold the two of them. Dean reaches up and slides a hand down Sam's neck. 

“Sam,” he mutters so tiredly and Sam grabs his hand, curling his fingers around his. “Why are you so fucking pretty?” Dean mumbles, his eyes fluttering and Sam feels his entire body freeze and twitch. 

“Dean,” Sam whispers heatedly and Dean’s eyes fly wide and open as he seems to find energy that was lacking just a few seconds ago. “Come on, you’re wasted,” he resigns himself and hauls Dean’s body up against his chest, holding him up but soon Dean shifts under him and it catches Sam’s cock, hot and hard, so hard.

“Sammy,” Dean slithers against his brother body and Sam knows Dean can feel it, every single inch of it and he shudders. “You hard for me, Sam?” Dean asks and surprisingly musters up enough energy to turn around in Sam’s embrace, his eyes wide and dark, “or is Tom Cruise doing it for you, baby boy?" And soon he's laughing, his whole body shaking as he rolls away.

Sam rolls his eyes and shoves his brother off the bed with one strong push. He may be 16 but he isn't weak. "You're an idiot," he mumbles and reaches for his beer. It's almost empty.

Dean hooks his arms over the top of the bed and pulls himself up with a chuckle. "Come on, Sammy, I'm just messing with you," he waves his hand at him. "Help me up," he asks and Sam ignores him, sending a kick in Dean's direction.

His brother dodges it and just laughs as he manages to climb back onto the bed, sliding up against Sam. Sam shoves him again but Dean expects it and stays put. 

"Dude, this is my bed, get off," Sam pushes but Dean is still stronger than him even drunk and wraps his entire body around Sam, pinning his arms and legs down. "Fuck, Dean, you jerk! Let me go!"

"Hey, calm down, Sammy," Dean laughs and flexes, tightening his hold just to prove he's stronger, Sam squirms, trying not to get heated but Dean is all around him, his body wrapped and pressed so close. He groans and tries to shake him off again.

"Come on, Dean, give me a break," Sam groans and goes limp in his arms. Dean turns his head around and looks into his brother's eyes. Dean's eyes glitter under the soft light. He smiles after a bit and loosens his grip, uncurling from Sam's body.

It gives Sam a chance to breath and move away, even if it's not much space. 

"Want another beer?" Dean sits up and settles his back against the wall as he reaches for the remote. Sam glances at him and shrugs.

Dean takes it as a yes and climbs off the bed to get more drinks. 

Sam swipes the remote and shoves it in his pants, let's see if he wants it now. The movie is almost over but he likes the end and wants to watch it anyway. 

"I can't believe you like this crap," Dean walks back and hands over an opened beer to Sam who doesn't bother to look at him. He sits back down, right beside him, taking a long drink. 

Sam can't help but glance over and watch him. God, what is wrong with him? And he tears his eyes away. 

Dean doesn't say anything else until the credits are rolling and he starts looking for the remote. 

Sam feels himself grin.

"Ok, my turn to watch something," Dean feels around the bed with no luck. After a few more seconds he turns to Sam. "Where is it?"

Sam takes a long drink and pretends he has no idea what Dean is talking about. 

"Come on, man, where did you put it?" Dean asks.

"It's gotta be here somewhere," Sam shrugs and holds his laugh in when Dean searches again. "It's a marathon, wanna watch the next one anyway," Sam looks over slyly. 

Dean glares. "Fuck that, give me the remote." His hands do another sweep without any results, clawing under the bed sheets and blankets. "Don't be an asshole, Sam, I know you have it. Give it to me."

Sam simply takes another drink and keeps his eyes on the television. "Looks like we're stuck watching this-" and suddenly Sam feels Dean's hands on him, smoothing over his chest. He chokes on his drink and struggles to get up but Dean's hands don't shy away. "What the fuck-"

Dean's up on his knees, searching over Sam's chest, under one armpit, feeling around, sending a horrible tickle throughout his body. "I know you have it, you little bitch," Dean growls, fucking growls and Sam jerks up into a sitting position and scrambles away. 

"Stop it, jerk!" Sam shouts and shoves at Dean's wandering hands. When he feels Dean's fingers smooth down along his hip he gasps and shoves him away. "Hey, watch it!" he yells. 

Dean pounces suddenly and is straddling Sam's hips, his hands seeking around the top of his jeans. Sam panics, Dean is on him, on top of him and he's touching him like crazy and _oh fuck_.

Fuck, he knows he's getting hard all over again. So Sam shoves strong, knocking his brother down.

"Get off!" 

But Dean has always had quick reflexes and pops back up in a flash, his fingers clawing at his jeans, smoothing down until Sam knows he feels it.

Dean grins, dark and predatory. "You kinky little bitch," Dean laughs and to Sam's horror his hands dip under his jeans, scrounging around until his fingers wrap around the remote and pull it free with a triumphant cry, just shy of touching his hard cock, which Dean has managed to ignore.

Sam, so flushed and embarrassed shoves Dean off him and gets to his feet. He stumbles into the bathroom and slams the door closed behind him. He's so fucking hard _again_ and his hand scrambles to undo his pants, reaches down and pulls his cock out, wrapping his hand around it.

"Fuck," he whispers and pumps his fist in a quick jerk, shivering down to his bones as his thumb smooths over the tender bundle of nerves under the head of his cock. He can't do anything but think of his brother while he strokes himself.

Sam comes to the memory of Dean's hands all over him, slouched over the sink as he recovers from his orgasm. 

He can hear Dean get another beer and looks in the mirror. His eyes are dark and blown wide, his cheeks flushed and breath heavy as he tries to control the pounding of his heart.

He turns on the sink and washes his hands, grabs a towel to clean himself up and splashes water over his face. Sam tucks himself back into his jeans and walks on shaky legs to the door.

He hopes desperately that Dean doesn't say anything when he opens the door and walks back to his bed. 

"You ok?" Dean asks as soon as Sam sinks onto his bed with a nod, he's on his own bed as he flips through the channels. "Nothing's on," Dean mutters and stops on an 80's horror movie, Sam thinks it's Friday the 13th but sometimes he confuses it with Nightmare on Elm Street. Whatever it is, Dean seems interested. "It's ok," Dean finally speaks after several minutes of silence between them. "You know sometimes-"

Sam turns to him with a frown. "Stop talking," he pleads and Dean takes another drink of his beer. 

The room feels like it's spinning and Sam can't control it. 

"Sam," Dean murmurs almost too quietly and it sends shock waves down Sam's body, the low timbre of his voice, almost delicate. He struggles to control himself.

Sam squeezes his eyes shut. "Please just, just shut up," he begs but soon the mattress dips and Dean is right there, sitting next to him. Sam can feel his body heat like a rush of fire on his skin. He groans and rolls onto his side, wrapping his arms around his pillow. "Dean, fuck, leave me alone," he mutters and keeps his eyes closed. 

He just wants to sleep. If he sleeps he can pretend this night never happened but soon he feels a hand on him. On his arm, smoothing down around his waist, curling just below his t-shirt.

"Sammy," Dean whispers and slides his fingertips along Sam's stomach and Sam's breath catches. Fuck, he can feel himself getting hard all over again, just being so close to his brother and a soft whimper of regret pulls from his mouth. 

"Stop," Sam whispers and rolls onto his back, legs falling open, his cock pressing against his jeans and so available for Dean to see. He wonders if Dean will see it and there's that dirty, _shameful_ part of him that _hopes_ he will. Hopes he touches him, all Sam wants is for Dean to touch him. He wants it so badly.

"So hard," Dean whispers reverently and Sam looks into his eyes, so black and blown out, the same look he thinks he catches every once in a while in his brother's eyes. "Sammy, is that-" he breathes and Sam shifts against the bed, so hard and uncomfortable, so open and there. Just there for Dean to see. "Is that for me, Sammy?" Dean asks past a whisper and Sam almost crawls out of his skin when he feels his brother's hand sliding past the crease of his hip, fingertips stretching out and curling around the pulled denim of his crotch. 

Dean is touching him, the heat of his palm flattening down his cock and Sam lets a gasp trip past his lips, his eyes rolling back just for a moment as he reels against the feel of his brother. Fuck, Dean is touching him, just the way he does in Sam's fantasies. 

"Fuck, Dean," Sam whispers pushing up under his brother's touch. He can feel tears pushing intensely against the corners of his eyes. "I'm sorry," he gasps when Dean's fingers curl around the curve of his cock, teasing him. "Fuck, please-"

And Dean snaps open his jeans and his fingers dip low, down as he lowers the zipper and Sam groans when his brother's hand pulls out his hard cock, his heart racing, his breath tugged out in sharp little gasps. 

He's torn between embarrassment and pleasure. This is what he wants so badly, but god, it's Dean, his older brother, and he's touching him. Working his hand down and up and around his cock, pulling moans and needy noises from his mouth. 

"I see you watching me, Sammy," Dean breathes out quietly, his face drawn into concentration, mouth soft, so soft Sam wants to sit up and kiss him but the fear of breaking this, these touches stops him. "You like this? Want-" Dean's voice catches but his fingers still stroke, so elegantly up and down Sam's cock he can't move. "Want this?" And Sam nods. 

Nods so desperately a tear pushes past the corner of his eye and slides down his cheek. 

"Don't cry. Please don't do that, Sammy," Dean comforts and Sam rises, pushes off the bed and presses his mouth to Dean's so wantonly, desperate to taste him. So weak with need and want.

Dean groans and opens his mouth, allowing Sam to take the lead, sealing his mouth so tight around Dean’s allowing his tongue to slide past Dean’s lips, curl deliciously inside his, pulling him in, sucking so carefully it's overwhelming and Sam feels Dean let go of his dick as he brings his hands to his cheeks, sliding his fingers up into to hair to draw him closer. 

Sam pulls Dean over him, spreading his legs to let him rest between, his cock wet and hard between their bodies. Sam groans into his brother’s mouth as Dean rolls his hips down and into him, hard against his body and he whimpers, kissing him harder, fervently; he tastes like beer and dinner and Dean and so fucking delicious, he wants more, so much more, can’t have enough.

"Fuck, Sammy," Dean pulls away slightly, just enough that his teeth catch Sam's lower lip, his breath hot and sweet. "You feel so good," he pushes down again, rutting carefully, and Sam hisses, Deans belt buckle catching his cock with a shocking spark of pleasure. It's not enough, he wants more. So much more.

Sam slinks his hands down, sliding them past Dean's hips, curling them around his ass and thrusting up quickly. "Dean, please," his voice drips of pleasure, "please, need to feel you," he sears his request with a deep kiss, swallowing Dean's breath, licking across the delicate crease of his mouth, sliding against the roof of his tongue and Dean responds so pliantly.

"Oh fuck," Dean groans and opens his eyes wide. "Want to feel me? Is that-" he caresses down into Sam's open mouth, licking the taste of his brother out. "Fuck, is that what you want?" He rolls his hips down onto Sam's cock and Sam cries out breathlessly.

"Yes, fuck, yes. Need," he gasps, "need you," he kisses him again, gentle, sweet, so delicious, "want you," he thrusts up and his body trembles, "want you so much, Dean. Please."

It's all Dean needs to hear before he pulls away and fumbles with his jeans, pulling them down, using his feet to shuck off his pants and soon Sam feels the heat of Dean’s cock pressed right against him. Hard, so hard and it’s almost enough to make him come. 

“Oh, god,” Sam groans and pushes up into his brother, their cocks sliding, “fuck, Dean,” he feels his hips pushing, writhing against him and Dean’s fingers curl around his jeans, tugging them off, kicking them off the bed, soon his hands scramble up and tug at Sam’s shirt.

“Off,” he presses his lips against the corner of Sam’s mouth, licks down his jaw and Sam whines, squirming and pulling his shirt up and over his head, throwing it aside. He pulls at Dean’s shirt, jerking it up and off, Dean moving away for just a second, enough time to get the cloth off and tossed to the floor. As soon as he can his mouth sucks down on Sam’s pulse point and he licks up against the skin, pulling the blood high and rough.

All Sam feels is Dean’s skin, so heated and warm and pressed so tight around him, his thick cock sealed between their bellies rutting against his own and it’s driving him crazy. Each thrust, each roll, each rough push of their bodies makes the air in Sam’s lungs catch, making him dizzy, drunk with desire.

Dean, his brother, the only person in the world he has ever wanted so bad it takes the air from his chest. He can touch him, runs his hands down Dean’s back, fingertips sweeping the muscular skin, scraping along the lines of his spine, digging in deep when Dean pushes down into him and rips out a groan so loud he thinks the people next door may hear him,

Sam wants to come so badly he can feel the tears pressing at his eyes. “Dean, I need to,” he moans.

But Dean looks at him and it’s dark and hungry. “Not yet, Sammy,” he grins, smile spread slow and deliberate. “Want you to enjoy this,” he whispers, licking the underside of Sam’s jaw, pressing teasing kisses down his neck.

“Dean,” Sam pushes up, trying for some relief against his brother but Dean pulls up and away, sitting back on his haunches so Sam can see him, chest glistening with sweat and so fucking gorgeous. Dean's cock curves up and when he reaches down for it Dean slaps his hand away.

"No, Sam," he grins, devious with intent. “This isn’t about me,” he slides his hands up and catches Sam’s wrists, locking them in his grip. Sam shudders so painfully aroused.

“Dean,” he breathes and feels a drop of sweat slide down from his temple. Dean sees it as he leans down and licks it up onto his tongue with a careful swipe. It sends Sam bucking up helplessly against his brother.

“Calm down, Sammy,” Dean’s lips mouth along his neck, licking teasingly down; mouthing at his collar bone; pulling up along a soft musky nipple until Dean gives a hard, loud suck and Sam yelps. “Try and be quiet, Sam. Think you can do that for me?”

And Sam bites at his mouth with a stuttered nod. He looks up at his brother who looks so fucking gorgeous, heated and strumming with desire. Desire for him, for Sam and god is that not the most amazing thing in the world.

“What do you want, Sam?” Dean loosens the hold around his wrists, so Sam can touch him again, feel his brother’s hot, slick skin under his shaky palms. “Tell me, what you want.”

And Sam thrusts against Dean’s body, sliding up so his weeping cock feels the sweet friction, “I want,” he gasps as he moves again, and again, his breath pulsing with little pleasured gasps, “please, can I have your mouth?” he groans and opens his legs wider, feeling Dean’s body slide down just an inch, pulling against his cock with a stirring shock of intense pleasure.

“You want me to suck your cock, Sammy?” Dean asks and Sam looks up and into his brother’s eyes. He gives the slightest of nods. “Say it,” Dean’s voice drops down so low Sam can feel it in his bones. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

“You. You’re mouth,” Sam breathes out with a gasp. “I want you to suck my cock, Dean,” he asks and he knows he’s begging, begging like a little whore. Begging for his brother to suck him off and make him come.

Dean looks down between their bodies and stares right at Sam’s dick and the mere act of it pulls out a bead of precome from the tip of his cock, glistening and waiting. “I can do that,” Dean nods, hungry and eyes so dark. He glances up at Sam and rubs the pad of his thumb along Sam’s bottom lip, “I can do that for you,” he whispers and just as quick he slides down and his mouth is on him.

Sam does everything in his power not to throw Dean off him, everything so intense, every feeling so overwhelming. Dean’s mouth so fucking hot, his tongue so soft it twists gasps from Sam’s mouth. When Dean sucks up, right to the head, his tongue sweeping so patiently along the underside of his cock Sam keens so loud he thinks he hears a thump from the neighbors. 

Sam doesn’t know if Dean’s ever done this before but god, fuck, _fuck_ if it doesn’t feel like the most amazing thing in the world. He knows he’s shaking, writhing, crying out words that are swallowed by the air as Dean flattens his tongue and slides up his cock so fucking slow the pleasure almost feels so painful. He widens his jaw, opens up, hollows his cheeks and takes him so deep into his throat Sam wants to crawl out of his skin.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Sam cries out, shaking against the bed, and when Dean’s tongue slides so carefully over the slit of his cock he clutches so tight he fears he may tear the sheets. "Dean, fuck, fuck gonna-" Sam thrusts up quick, uncontrollably, and Dean slams a hand on his hips, holding him down, controlling the wild thrusts; swallowing him down all the way; his nose pressed to his skin and Sam can't hold back the scream scratching past his throat even if he tried.

Dean moans around him and sucks up so firm Sam's voice chokes, his body drawn tight as he comes, so hard down Dean's throat and he's swallowing, throat working with each pulse, still moving, still sucking him down, allowing Sam every single pleasure of release.

Sam is still twitching, eyes peeled back, stars dancing around the room when he feels Dean slide up his body, his mouth on him, kissing him slow.

Sam groans and kisses back lazily, licking the taste of his own come and he shudders, Dean's hands smoothing over his sensitive body, sliding up his neck, to his cheek, clutching around his hair.

"Sammy," he whispers against his mouth and shifts, his cock still hard as he thrust up Sam's hip. He ruts quick, rubbing desperately and Sam reaches down, skimming over the sweat of their bodies and wraps his hand around Dean's cock. "Fuck, Sam," he groans, breathing unevenly through his nose, gasping as Sam jerks up and down, Dean's cock so hard, skin so soft and burning under his palm.

"Is this, Dean-" Sam looks up into his dark eyes and bites his lip, "is this ok?" he breathes.

Dean slams against his mouth and comes with a deep cry, kissing him senseless, spilling over Sam's fist in hot spurts, coming on Sam's hip; he keeps working his hand, pushing out every drop until Dean’s cock simply twitches, spent and turning soft around his fingers.

"Fuck, fuck," Dean pants against Sam's neck, kissing him softly, licking the sweat from his skin as he comes down from his high.

Sam shudders and rolls against Dean's side, ignoring the drying come on his body as he wraps his arms around his brother's shoulder and shimmies in against his body.

Dean grunts against his shoulder. "You ok?" he asks and Sam nods with a yawn, he yawns himself and breaks away from Sam just for a second and slides out of bed. Sam watches past hazy eyes as Dean tugs the blankets from the other bed, whipping the food wrappers and empty beer bottles to the floor. He watches the flex of Dean’s arms, the way the muscles in his back move, glide under his skin and god, he is so fucking beautiful Sam can hardly stand it. Dean throws the blankets over them and slides back into bed, gathering Sam into his arms and holds him close, kissing him softly, delicate little licks at the corner of his mouth, across his bottom lip, tiny presses to his lips, practically making Sam purr with delight. It’s quite possibly the best feeling in the whole entire world. “Time to sleep, Sammy,” he murmurs and takes a deep, long breath that whittles down into a pleased sigh.

Sam doesn’t want to fall asleep, not yet. He wants to talk to Dean and and hold him and touch him. Sam wants to kiss him some more, as much as he can since he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get the chance to do this again. But Dean’s arms feel nice and warm around him, his hands hot against his back, his sleepy breath the softest brush against his neck. He could totally fall asleep and be ok with it, just like this.

Sam looks down at Dean, he’s already asleep, snoring softly and Sam sighs. His fingers trip down Dean’s shoulder, pressure almost feathersoft as he slides them over his muscle, past Dean’s elbow.

Dean’s scent is intoxicating and Sam breathes him in, sliding his hand up, up, up, along his neck, halting just a moment when Dean shifts, brow lines folding down for just a moment before he sighs and starts snoring again. He brushes his fingers along the base of his neck, nails curling just slightly around the damp hair.

“Sam, you’re not sleeping,” Dean mutters and Sam’s hand stills as he glances down, Dean’s eyes are still closed, like he’s talking in his sleep. “Why are you touching me like that?” he finally does open his eyes and tilts his head back. He looks worn out and maybe still a little drunk.

Sam frowns, it all hits him like punch to the gut. “Because you’re still probably drunk,” he whispers hesitantly, fingers curling into Dean’s skin, pressing his cheek against Dean’s hair, taking a long deep whiff, “because I want to remember how this feels,” Sam pulls away slightly and Dean’s arms release him slightly, makes it easier to move. Sam brings his other hand up and curls it around Dean’s cheek, leaning down, kissing him softly, Dean’s mouth opening up for him, humming in pleasure as Sam’s tongue caresses his, tenderly, lovingly, like making a memory. “Don’t know if it’ll happen again,” he breathes against Dean’s lips. “Want it too, always,” the tip of his tongue pokes through Dean’s opened mouth, licking so carefully inside, “ _always_ , Dean.”

Dean searches Sam’s eyes, looking for something, as if he’s seeking some hidden truth in his brother’s gaze. “Do you?” Dean asks deeply, “Is that what you want?”

And Sam feels flayed wide open, his emotions spring embarrassingly to the corner of his eyes, wetting his lashes, but no tears. “Every fucking day,” he whispers.

Dean’s still searching for that thing in his eyes before he nods so slightly, almost unseen, even the tiny curve at the corner of his lip in the smallest of smiles but Sam sees everything about Dean, the way he moves; the exhale of every single breath. Every change of his eyes, dark and predatory when he hunts, disappointed and angry when he’s around dad, heated when he sees a pretty girl and then there’s the way he looks at him, at Sam, like now, tender, gentle, reassuring and protective. 

Dean’s eyes tell stories and Sam wants to know more. Wants this more. Wants Dean more. Now that it’s happened, there’s no going back. Sam can’t. He _won’t_.

“Ok,” Dean kisses Sam, swallows his breath, rolls on top of him and sinks between Sam’s spreading thighs. “Ok, Sammy,” he whispers, presses his mouth to Sam's neck. “Maybe not every day but yeah. Yeah, Sammy, I can do that,” Dean grins and Sam lets out a watery laugh, surging up to kiss Dean hard, thankful.


End file.
